alone
by and the whispers commence
Summary: "And if this is what love feels like, then you'd rather spend the rest of your life alone." A drabble-y fic featuring second-person pov and implied Cassie.


**alone**

_i;_

"This is Massie Block. She'll be staying with us for the summer."

You look up towards your mom, reaching up to swipe the dark honey-and-chocolate hair out of your eyes.

The girl standing there isn't at all what you're used to seeing. She's pretty in her own right – deep, auburn hair and cinnamon-coated-gold irises, but just not… right. Something about the almost practiced pout of her lips or cleverly-hidden torture in her stance seems alarming.

"Why?" It's the only thing that you can really think of.

Your mom doesn't answer right away, so the fair-skinned girl takes the cue.

"You ask too many questions."

_ii;_

"I'll be back later!" The words are yelled up the staircase.

Your mom's only response is a request that she not stay out too late.

She nearly runs into you as she goes out the door, and you stumble backwards a little, taking in her appearance.

"You look like a prostitute," you manage.

This Massie girl gives a toothy grin at your apparent discomfort, eyes sparkling with mirth. "A _high-end_ prostitute," she corrects with faux-gentleness. "Now move, pretty boy. I have people to screw."

You just barely catch yourself from wishing you were one of them.

_iii;_

"What are you making?" she drawls.

You're startled by the suddenness of her voice, completely unaware that she'd even been in the kitchen at all. "Cookies."

Even to your ears, your voice sounds weak and frightened by the enigma of a female standing before you. You back into the stove a little when she licks her lip, smirking at you reaction. "I hope they're good cookies."

"They're always fabulous. Little Cammie likes to cook," a new voice teases.

It's him, and the thought makes you frown.

"Harris," you mutter darkly, by way of greeting.

Massie seems intrigued by the show of anger towards your brother.

_iv;_

"Got a boyfriend yet?"

You give Harris an icy look and sit down on the couch with your worn copy of _Paradise Lost_, having just gotten back from your summer job at the library.

"What? Things with vaginas normally have boyfriends. Not always, but you know. I'd hope you could at least get one thing ri- Whoa."

Massie practically struts in, not wearing much more than dark denim cutoffs and a tight cotton camisole the color of fresh blood.

What scares you the most and makes you panic despite your calm exterior is that she seems to be heading right towards you. You swallow thickly when she sits right on top of you, _straddling_ your lap and lightly knocking your book out of the way. Her lips cover yours, brief but deep, and she gently strokes the side of your face.

"Hey, baby, how was work?"

Harris drops his car keys.

_v;_

"What did you do that for?" you demand.

"You can't let people walk all over you, Cameron. He's an asshole."

"Yeah, but… Now he's going to think we're dating. And you _kissed _me!"

She narrows her eyes with skepticism. "Was it your first kiss?"

"No, bu-"

"Then it shouldn't matter."

That's the problem for you.

It does matter.

And you can still taste the saltwater taffy and lemonade from her lips.

_vi;_

"How does a guy like you get a girl like that?" Harris mutters.

Massie is curled on the opposite couch, wearing far too small plaid pajama shorts and a T-shirt from soccer camp that she'd found in your closet.

"Easy. He has looks, brains, and personality. You're more like the awkward, unwanted pumpkin," she remarks lightly.

You stare at her in confusion and she just sends you a wink and a blown kiss.

"Awkward and unwanted _pumpkin_?" You've never heard Harris sound so offended. "I think you're getting me and my sis-"

"He's a guy, you fucking asshole! Can you get that in your head?" she snaps. She stands up and stares him down.

You blink in surprise.

Harris is just as, if not more, shocked than you are. "I-"

"No, you aren't anything. Come on, Cam." She grabs your hand and drags you upstairs with her.

_vii;_

"That was highly unnecessary," you murmur.

She gives you a flat look. "I'm not going to let him do that to you."

"Why? You don't have to put up with it."

Massie grabs you by the shoulders, pulling you flush against her, and kisses you with soft, sugary lips.

(It's starbursts and grape soda this time.)

Small, smooth hands twine into your hair, and for some reason, you never want her to let go.

Your hands find her waist and fruitlessly attempt to pull her closer because you never want this moment to end.

"_Cam_."

Your name coils from her lips to yours and makes you tighten your hold reflexively.

You've never felt more alive.

_viii;_

"Why'd you come here for the summer anyway?"

She frowns. "You just won't give up on that."

"I'm curious."

"Apparently."

There's a pause before she parts crimson-painted lips and starts to speak again.

"They, my parents, wanted to go on a trip to France alone. I, uh… They're working most of the time, so I expected to just be left alone like always, but they apparently don't trust me anymore."

"Why wouldn't they trust you?" And perhaps you shouldn't prod, but you can't help yourself.

"Because I'm not the daughter they expected me to be. And the very thought kills them."

_ix;_

You don't know what she is to you anymore. All you know is that she's been so close to you for a long time ("I actually go to Abner Double Day. Not a big shocker there.") and you still somehow wish you'd met her sooner.

It would be so much easier to shake her off that way – if you'd known her all your life.

Maybe then you'd know about her.

Maybe then you wouldn't be such a _try-hard_ in your long-off dream to figure her out.

Because she is the dark and rain mixed with the light and sunshine and nothing ever makes sense with her.

You're pretty sure you prefer is this way.

_x;_

"Cam!"

You've never seen her excited before, and you nearly fall over in shock when she jumps up and wraps her legs around you. Slender hands tangle familiarly into your hair, a rather enthusiastic kiss throwing you even further off guard.

To your credit, you only stumble once before your balance is righted and you're returning the fervent action.

When she finally pulls back, still smiling cheerfully, you can only blink.

"Hello?"

"Hi!"

"What's going o-"

"I watched Harris get turned down by eight consecutive girls!"

There's a pause.

"Congratulations?"

_xi;_

"Eight girls, Cammy! What the actual fuck? That never fucking happens to me," Harris pouts, again.

Massie hides her smirk behind an issue of _Cosmo_ and you struggle to remain impassive.

"Um, maybe it's the hairstyle," you suggest.

He doesn't look amused. "This hair is the hair of Gods, Cammy. Don't be so stupid."

"Stop insulting him," Massie snaps. "Or it will be more than eight."

"Excuse me?" A pause. "You're the one that told them all I was gay and trying to prove otherwise to myself, aren't you?" he demands.

She merely tilts her head. "Now, I would never-"

"Save it." He looks pissed.

Your laughter is choked out into the faded pages of _Sherlock Holmes: A Study in Scarlet._

_xii;_

Summer is over now, and you know what that entails.

That doesn't mean you want to admit it to yourself.

Instead, you indulge in your own sadness and twirl that lovely hair around your fingertips.

"I'm going back to Abner soon, Cam. You know that."

She's right. You do know and you're maybe a little _scared_.

"And you're going to Pendleton High. I doubt our crowds will accept each other."

You force yourself not to let your fingers tighten and pull. She deserves gentle.

"Answer me, Cameron! Argue with me, scream at me, tell me I'm wrong!" Massie sits up abruptly, looking frazzled.

"But you're right. We both know you're right."

_xiii;_

One last press of lips – one last cotton candy and kool-aid memory.

"Maybe we'll see each other next summer," she says.

You understand that you won't. She's proved herself enough to her parents by now, but she'll be back to it.

You get what she meant by 'bad crowd,' and you know you'll never be brave enough to be a part of it. A part of her.

None of that for you. You're straight-A, bookworm Cam Fisher - not C-D range, rebellious badass Massie Block.

It hurts – hurts so bad.

And if this is what love feels like, then you'd rather spend the rest of your life alone.


End file.
